Sixth Sense
by Fenikkusu Ai
Summary: Ten one-shots of Lucifer/Constantine written for 10 hurt comfort. John tries to ignore an infected tooth and gets an unwelcome visitor.
1. Training Day 1

Title: Training Day  
Author: Fenikkusu Ai  
Claim: Lucifer/John Constantine  
Table: General #10  
Prompt: #1 Struggle  
Rating: M  
Summary: John is so often rebellious, and needs some training on how to behave. Warnings: Non-con. Bloodplay.  
Notes: I should be hit with a crucifix for writing this pairing…but I do anyway.

Word Count: 458.

* * *

_A bite here._

_A scratch there. _

_A growl sprinkled somewhere in the middle…_

John…was a fighter. He always had been a challenge—a regular hell raiser who always behaved like a little spoiled brat who had never gotten his own way. He would_ dare_ kick at him, scream at him, and even attempt to punch him before he elegantly caught the closed fist in mid-air.

"Now, what did I tell you about the face?" he admonished mockingly. The hiss he receives in answer rivals one of his own domain in ferocity.

Because John Constantine _did_ act like one of his domain, no matter how much the human tried to hide it. Lucifer was simply claiming what was his as he forced the swearing and pathetically whimpering thing into submission just as he had done time and again below to his own demons.

Except John wasn't a demon. Not technically at least.

As it was with humans, John did have free will. This situation that was playing out right now need not have happened, but Constantine must have been just as much obsessed with him as well. Five, ten, twenty years and John was _still_ choosing to live this rat hole existence. By now, John was so stagnant, so imbued with his own arrogance and warped by his own views on a philosophy that he couldn't even _begin_ to understand; it would be nothing short of a miracle he got even close to the upstairs landing with a pure heart. He was fucked.

And, the sad part was that he thought he could still win.

It was so…tedious. The writing and struggling would only end in defeat, and John himself knew it. Minds and bodies touched as Lucifer scratched a particularly deep wound in John's flesh prompting a scream from his throat. He knew with full certainty it would scar, and he also knew with certainty that it would bring the human's anger to a boiling point whenever he glimpsed it…make him even more defiant if that was possible when he encountered him again.

There. He had shrugged off John's coat, torn into his shirt, and was now working on his pants. John was getting quite exhausted by now. He could tell. Muscles overworked with frantic motions, pain sharply creasing into his sweaty features, lips open from needless gasping and just begging to be pillaged. It was their bedroom quirk. First, agony. Then, pleasure. For John was young and needed to be trained.

And, that's all this was Lucifer reasoned as he took the human's hardened length in his hand which resulted in a weak defeated whimper of pleasure that so traitorously escaped from John's vocal chords. Training.

Though he and Johnny-boy would have an eternity to get it right…


	2. Jealousy 2

Title: Jealousy  
Author: Fenikkusu Ai  
Claim: Lucifer/John Constantine  
Table: General #10  
Prompt: #2 Crush  
Rating: M  
Summary: It wasn't easy being Lu's first crush. Warnings: Mentions of violence. Language.  
Notes: Balthazar/John is referenced to. As for the other two crushes, I made them up. They're not canon. Word Count: 331.

* * *

John's first crush was an inmate at Ravenscar. It ended badly when the guy ratted him out and was then preyed upon even more for being a "faggot." His second crush was a random cute girl he met at a bar that thought she could "save" him. She clearly had a fetish for the disturbed broken type. However, as it turned out, she couldn't even save herself…from Balthazar.

Balthazar ended up being his third crush. Illogical and impossible, but those were the two keywords of John's life.

The demon didn't return his attentions at first, and then only in small measures. Like a true devil, Balthazar threw it in John's face every time they encountered one another; drawing ever closer to him yet staying perfectly out of range.

Except Balthazar wasn't the Devil. And, even the Devil could be envious.

Something that made itself perfectly clear to John when the back of his head met the wall as he was thrown against it; the impeccably dressed white-suited man smiled down at his crumpled body.

"What the fuck, Lu?" John dared to raise his voice. "I'm not your punching bag."

Brimstone lit in Lu's blue eyes. "I beg to differ, Johnny. And, besides, I don't like you seeing other men. Period."

"Other…men?" John knew perfectly well who Lucifer was referring to, but sometimes, the "dumb" act worked.

"You know _damn_ well who, and I've recently had a little discussion with him too. Leave him alone, sonny, or next time I'll break your neck, and you'll be joining me a hell of a lot quicker."

John was speechless when Lu darted over towards him to capture his lips in a carnal kiss as his callused fingers rasped along his chin; an almost soothing touch compared to the outburst of violence earlier. John whimpered at the sensation. It seemed as if the game of bait and switch he had been playing with Balthazar had been permanently postponed.

It wasn't easy being Lucifer's first crush.


	3. Crimson 3

Title: Crimson  
Author: Fenikkusu Ai  
Claim: Lucifer/John Constantine  
Table: General #10  
Prompt: #3 First Love/Old Flame  
Rating: M  
Summary: Lucifer reflects on his past loves under the influence of wine with John, his newest passion. Warnings: Strong religious themes.  
Word Count: 738.

* * *

Lucifer's oldest love was of course God Almighty, and every good little Christian that read their bibles knew how _that_ story turned out; an all-consuming demanding love that he just had to break away from.

Unfortunately, the other loves are never as good as your first.

He sometimes wondered about the sheer irony of that, of turning away from the Source of love itself to find something grander. Simply put, there _was_ nothing grander. He learned that rather quickly as his screams of rage slowly died away to nothingness in the empty abyss he had created for himself.

But, he had made his bed.

In time, he had no regrets when he had children of his own; children that populated the burning interiors of hell. It was just too bad that love didn't exist there. He wasn't a particularly supportive father either. If certain members of his brood could not survive aboveground, that was not his fault. It was sheer weakness on their part.

However, throughout history, there were numerous affairs. He was rarely lonely as there were privileged rulers, haughty upper classes of noblewomen, and Occultists that were all too willing to be his; too drunk with power and all too eager for more to realize they were selling their soul away.

Back then, in the old days, he would visit earth as neutral as it was. There was no real law against it, but it was common knowledge the higher ups preferred he stayed below. As the centuries passed, he stayed put right where he was. He would never play their goddamned game known as "the Balance." Why play when the winnings were already in his favor?

He had many old flames, even other fallen angels—mostly half-breeds—who had finally given into despair. They were rare prizes; beautiful crystalline tears trickling down their perfect features as they lamented their grief of being cast aside. To _him_. Music to his ears. Human souls in his realm were too easy; they had no choice in the matter whenever he decided to rip into them in a flash of passion. As always, he preferred a conquest.

Like John Constantine.

John Constantine wasn't like other men. Being a psychic and an exorcist made him unique enough, but how many psychics/exorcists chose to slum with the other side? Not that he had a choice. Ideally, John Constantine would be smothered with love and light and grow up to be an unwavering soldier of God. Instead, They had let Johnny him slip right through their fingers.

Can't blame the boy for being skeptical.

So much power, so much potential, and it was his for that taking. Ripe fruit quivering on the vine.

Of course, John could mend his ways and rejoin the light. Of course, after that raw deal, that would never _happen_. Suicide was also an instant no-no. No human creature could remove the stain of that sin—not even John.

He was full aware of the reason he was smiling over the lighted candles at his dining partner. In his hand, he held a glass of ruby wine. It was a surreal moment as the Devil and the Exorcist as shared drinks together.

Maybe John was lonely. Maybe he was _really _lonely.

He enjoyed John. Perhaps he enjoyed John a little bit too much. Watching John was like reexperiencing his Fall all over again, and you don't forget those memories. Just like the first time. Just like his first love.

He waited until John raised the wineglass to his lips.

"You know, there's no Burgundy served in crystal wineglasses in hell, John."

He was pleased when John began sputtering and gagging on the alcohol; the light of the flames bringing out the crimson beautifully. The human was so flustered he slammed his wineglass down on the table where it instantly shattered on contact. Such a delicate wineglass should not be treated in such a manner. Broken glass could create such a mess and cause so many injuries, especially the tiny shards.

"Jesus Christ!" John shouted as the blood welled from the cut that snaked across his index finger.

Lu chuckled thickly. "Not here, Johnny. You just have me. Here, let me help make it better."

He grasped John's hand, the left hand of course, and set about the task of slowly sucking the poisons all out of John's system.

Oh, yes. John's blood definitely tasted better than the wine.


	4. Sanctuary 4

Title: Sanctuary  
Author: Fenikkusu Ai  
Claim: Lucifer/John Constantine  
Table: General #10  
Prompt: #4 Forbidden  
Rating: M  
Summary: John can't keep his soul clean for five minutes. Warnings: Semi-graphic sexual situations. Strong language.  
Word Count: 757.

* * *

The little window in the confessional opened with a _bang_.

"Yes, my child?"

John knew his lines, feeling like a bad actor in an unworthy role. "Bless me, father, for I have sinned. It's been eight months since my last confession and my sins are…"

_Many._

John decided to settle on just one. "I've been seeing a man, father."

"Is this…a homosexual affair?" The priest's voice wavered as if embarrassed.

He said it like it was a bad thing. "Yes, father."

"Is either party married?"

_Only to Darkness._

"No, father."

"At least, you're not committing adultery. But, still my child, homosexuality is forbidden."

_Like you haven't done it,_ John's thoughts were nearly caustic, _I watch the evening news too, asshole. Priests aren't so holy…_

"Is there a reason why you have chosen to tell me about this man?"

And, then John Constantine let it fly. "He's evil, father. Pure evil. You name it, he's done it. He's…like the Devil himself." John let himself bask in the irony of that statement.

"Evil seeks evil, child."

It as if John had been slapped. "Are you calling me evil?"

_Fucking priest._

"If you stay with him, yes. You must let your conscience decide."

His conscience? That thing in his chest that had stopped speaking to him when he was around six years old due to a shitty, godless, demon-filled life full of neglect and abuse? Oh, yeah. That_ thing_.

"It doesn't matter anyway, father. He's strong, and he owns me. Literally."

"Only God can own you."

_God doesn't want me._

Though John was impressed with the guy's faith. _He_ obviously knew his lines well. Even though all priests were trained to say the exact same words.

"Thanks for the input." The kneeler creaked as John attempted to make his exit. "I think I'll be leaving now."

"Do you not want penance and absolution, my son?"

"Sure. But, I don't think it will do any good." His pessimism threatened to overwhelm them both.

The priest gave him fifteen Hail Marys and ten Our Fathers. It should have been fifteen thousand Hail Marys and ten thousand Our Fathers considering who he was seeing. If it was only that easy to simply pray and totally be forgiven…for everything.

John walked across the dewy asphalt parking lot and breathed in the misty summer air. His keys jangled in his pocket as he grabbed them and proceeded to open the car door. The scent of sticky leather greeted him as he slid into the driver's seat and slammed it behind him.

"Fuck!" His hands hit the steering wheel in a familiar burning hot anger that never seemed to have an appropriate outlet.

This outburst attracted an amused chuckle in an otherwise empty car. "Really. Such language," a voice chided. "Why confess when you're just going to commit the same sins over and over again?"

John was on the verge of tears as he rested his nose on said steering wheel.

_Not him. Not him. Not after I went through that...why does God do this?_

"Yes, little ol' me." Lucifer elaborated. "Who else, sonny?"

"Why the hell are you here?" John Constantine hissed as he jerked his head upwards to meet the asshole's eyes.

" 'Why the _hell_ not' ?" he mocked. "You're not exactly the hardest to find, John. You're either getting drunk at your apartment, getting drunk at Midnite's, or of course whining here. Besides, I think your stick needs to be readjusted, and I don't mean the gears."

With that, the Lu's hand shamelessly grabbed his dick.

John reeled backwards like a fish on a line. "_Sick sonofabitch_!"

"Be careful who you're calling sick, John. You're being unusually cooperative tonight," the being advised as a whimper escaped John's lips when he realized that he was now standing at attention. Such a picturesque scene if someone happened to look in the window; the Devil's hand on his hardened cock.

"Can you break away?" the Father of Lies whispered.

John couldn't answer as his mind was currently being tempted and titillated of the prospect of all the crazy positions he and Lu could get in the backseat. He envisioned himself mercilessly drilled into from behind; pleasure and pain effortlessly washing and blending together like water and wine. John would scream and plead as he stretched to the brink all the while knowing it was exactly what he deserved with Lucifer's breath in his ear.

It was a game. A test. A baiting.

The unanswered question blew on the wind as blue and brown gazes clashed.


	5. A Promise is a Promise 5

Title: A Promise is a Promise  
Author: Fenikkusu Ai  
Claim: Lucifer/John Constantine  
Table: General #10  
Prompt: #5 Constant Reminder  
Rating: M  
Summary: What Lucifer wants, Lucifer gets. Warnings: Allusion to sexual situations. Religious imagery. Language.  
Word Count: 1,311.

* * *

John knew he was trouble as soon as he exited the confines of the tiled shower; the hot mist rolling after him. It was as if his lower abdomen had been dunked in ice water—something did not belong here.

Damned exorcist senses.

John stumbled to the mirror and took a peek at what was reflected in the glass. He still looked like hell, but at least he was clean. The nicotine was wreaking vengeance on his complexion though, not to mention his teeth, but addiction was addiction. He couldn't stop even if he wanted to.

"_John…"_

The voice was inaudible, but he could hear it as clear as a bell inside his own head. The voice itself didn't disturb him as he went through crap like that all the time; it was the tone that did him in. The intent. Like something wanted to eviscerate his soul from his body in the most painful manner possible and then do it all over again.

Refusing to be intimidated, he frowned and instead cleared more humid fog from the mirror. It turned out to a bad choice when the mirror fogged up again right under his fingers except this fog was actually _hot_.

"Christ!" John Constantine's fingers backed off the glass.

Dark amused laughter bubbled up from behind him.

_He's here._

"I won't be ignored, John. Besides, didn't you know vanity is one of the seven deadly sins?"

The first thing John foolishly thought was that the Devil's suit matched the white tiles of the bathroom. What was it with him and the color _white_? And, why did he choose to look like…that? If the Devil himself could choose his appearance, why not a young male in his twenties with rocker-length raven hair and black leather pants?

John would never understand him.

The two had met before of course. Down below, nineteen years ago, where John had been the newest meat on the menu; a sweet succulent suicide who couldn't take the sufferings life had so graciously meted out to him. Amidst all the soot, fire, and minions with their long jagged nails and ferocious howls; the white-suited man had approached him with a Satanic smile on his lips. There was no question of who it was.

Thankfully, John had been ripped away before anything bad happened…as if being sent to hell hadn't been bad enough. He had been resuscitated in that damned ambulance, and he had never been so glad to be hooked up in restraints to an IV in his life.

Now, here he was in front of him again.

John couldn't make his vocal chords work for a moment. What he said after he found his voice was actually quite pedestrian. "What the fuck are you doing here for?"

For once, the bastard gave him a straight answer. "I'm getting bored waiting around for you. So I decided to…visit."

John stiffened. "What makes you think I'm going?"

"Oh, you're going all right," the fiend responded huskily. "You know it too."

It wasn't fair. Just last night he had taken down a record of four of them. One demon was going to attack an older brother holding his baby sister for Christ's sake. Didn't that mean…anything up there?

"Not yet," he replied mechanically. "There's still time. I've got at least another forty years."

The Devil chuckled a private laugh.

"What the fuck's so funny?" John could feel his anger rise.

"Never mind. I prefer to let poor unfortunates find out for themselves."

Letting the knowledge hang over John's head like a sword, Lucifer turned his attention to other things. Like John himself. "Nice look, sonny. It's so natural."

Thank God that he had wrapped a towel around his waist. Although that towel could be removed in an instant if it was Satan's desire.

John shivered as the being advanced on him. Lucifer possessed…a disturbing charisma. He could feel it radiate throughout the room in scarlet hot waves. Not waves of true love and tenderness, but unsaid promises of raw passion and ferocious fucking. Self-gratification. Did Lucifer's taste run to men? John Constantine didn't know. The sexual orientation of the Devil hadn't been in his training.

"Thinking of fucking a demon, sonny? Oh, wait. You do. Those succubi are so tempting, aren't they? Isn't Ellie ravishing?"

"Shut up!" John turned his back and stomped over back towards the mirror.

Suddenly, Lucifer's tone turned bitter. "You humans take liberties whenever you feel like it. You can screw a demoness and feel no shame or even a meaningless harlot for two bucks. What if I told you that _I_ want to fuck an exorcist, hmm? It's been so long…"

"Get the hell out of my apartment." John's tone was flat. He was tired of putting up with these shitty games.

"I wasn't asking nicely, John. What I want…I take. Not so different from you, am I, John?"

It was going to happen. He was serious. The hairs on the back of John's neck were threateningly stiff…as stiff as he expected Lucifer to be. Already, his mind was receiving visual stimuli of being fucked against the bathroom wall; his blood spilling on the white tiles with his screams echoing through the apartment and somehow being made to enjoy it just because the demon in question was a sick sadistic son of a bitch.

He was drawing closer.

_Fight or surrender. Fight or surrender…_

Without thinking, John picked up the glass that was nestled by the faucet of the sink and threw it full force at the man in white. Lucifer reacted by raising his hand where the glass shattered on command without so much as grazing him. That same hand then jumped to Constantine's throat and suddenly John found himself against the wall with a very irritated Devil near strangling him.

"Didn't think you'd fight, sonny," he said matter-of-factly.

The terrycloth towel was now in a heap on the floor. John was now naked, defenseless, and rapidly running out of air. "Damn it, Lu…" he broke off as he couldn't finish the accursed name.

"Lu?" The fiend sounded amused. "Lu who?"

Constantine gagged as his vision simultaneously went blurry.

_He wouldn't. _That_ act would violate so many rules…_

Then, John realized his position. One, he was hypocrite as _he_ had never followed the rules and two, the man upstairs didn't even care about him anymore as a result of that philosophy. If Lucifer decided to kill him, he probably could…in theory.

All at once, there was clean air when Lucifer or rather "Lu" let him drop into a nude heap. The bruising fingers had finally been removed and John gasped as he mercifully breathed albeit with much coughing.

"Lu. I rather like that name." The compassionless prick smiled down at the suffering human.

"I didn't say it to _please_ you, asshole. I physically couldn't breathe," John managed to retort.

Lucifer's smile only grew wider. "See you later, John." With that, he turned his back.

John was now made beyond all reason that he was such an easy amusement for Lucifer. "Aren't you going to…take me?" The words could have been taken from a trashy romance novel.

"Not yet. But, I _would_ sleep with one eye open. Sweet dreams, John," The Devil said smoothly as he made his exit without so much at looking at him.

John growled as he punched the floor with his bare fist where he was rewarded by his knuckle breaking open. The blood dripped on the floor—six droplets.

Lu however _did_ claim his prize in exactly six days and six hours. Everything had to be symbolic with him. When red hot hands had swept under the covers and burned Constantine's pale skin crimson leaving an everlasting mark that would be a constant reminder of this night.

He didn't even struggle as the constant pain slowly eclipsed a pleasure-induced haze.


	6. Near Death 6

Title: Near Death  
Author: Fenikkusu Ai  
Claim: Lucifer/John Constantine  
Table: General #10  
Prompt: #6 Discovery  
Rating: M  
Summary: John Constantine did not beg. Warnings: Hellish imagery. Language.  
Word Count: 783.

* * *

Lucifer loved making new discoveries. They relieved him of his eternal boredom and provided amusement.

In particular, he was always tickled to meet the new arrivals; the fresh ones that cried and groaned—some amazed to be there and others silent and glum with the knowledge that they had been right all along.

You didn't follow the rules. You lived a selfish life perhaps. You nailed your secretary when you were supposed to be visiting your sick kid in the hospital with appendicitis.

Well, Lucifer had two words to say to them: _fuck you_.

It was truly pathetic how some of the damned cowered and begged before him—tugging at white trouser cuffs that were bordered by boiling black tar—to be given release from this torment, that it was not fair, that it had been a mistake. Lucifer had been in that same pathetic position himself shortly after his own Fall; pleading with God up above to be let back _in_, and if _he_ couldn't go back into that pretty loving light no one else sure as hell was if he could help it.

Besides, he wasn't the one who had damned them. His Father knew how to do that so well.

John Constantine did not beg.

From that fact alone, the boy was already…different. He wasn't suffering; wracked with shudders of guilt and terror. Instead, red hot defiance that mirrored the deep ruby flames around him lit his cave-like eyes when he saw just who _dared_ approached him. Lucifer could feel the boy's—no—_John Constantine's_ hatred from the very depths of his soul. His blackened and broken aura screamed it.

It was so delicious to behold. Such bravado. Such arrogance…

Lucifer needed to teach this soul his place. It had been a good long while since that had happened. Already, he was beginning to shiver with sadistic delight.

Nonchalantly, he bent down on one knee with a smile so that he was level with the crouched boy. He decided he would start this off nice. "John, do you know who I am?"

The boy bared his teeth like a cobra before spitting in Lucifer's direction. The fleck of saliva was so ineffectual and poorly aimed; it didn't even make contact. A blank smile froze on the fallen angel's face. Now, he was pissed. Fuck being nice. Humans were all the same. In the end, they didn't deserve it.

"You're not very smart, are you, John? But, I guess that speaks for itself, doesn't it? Look where you ended up after all."

John countered with a flint stare. He still wasn't speaking. Though, Lucifer didn't care. He would be _screaming_ soon enough.

And, then he noticed it. Bright sparks of silver flashing through the boy's darkened soul hinting at something composed of pure supernatural power; burning at his very core. So. John was a psychic. Oops. _Had_ been a psychic. An _exorcist_. Lucifer guessed that John couldn't handle the power, and as it turned out, it was the very reason he had committed suicide.

Details of John Constantine's life steadily entered his head like water from a faucet. As the details flowed, Lucifer became more and more intrigued by this soul. All the pretty pain he had suffered in his lifetime, not to mention the agony that was still to come, only served to excite him.

John's expression changed then when he noticed how intently the Devil was looking him up and down. Indeed, the demon couldn't hide the lust that was making his eyes glow a brimstone red…

"John…"

Lucifer reached out his hand. John began to whimper as he crouched low to the ground. This action confused him. He intended to be gentle after all. Eventually.

And, then he was gone. Sent back to the world of the living. The roar of pure frustration that escaped Lucifer's lips caused hell itself to shake. Apparently, this was only what humans referred to as a "near death experience."

So, now, Lucifer had to wait.

Lucifer watched from afar as John aged from a rebellious teenager to an asshole of a man. He had truly grown into his own strength and was destroying demons—his children—every single day and night. More _violence_. More _vengeance_. Against _him_. John was a gambling man, and he never dreamt that his own day of death could draw so near…

Even the most vicious and seasoned soldier demons cringed as their master laughed and laughed when he discovered John's lung cancer.

And when he found John lying there on the hospital floor in a pool of his own blood as he committed suicide for the second time in his life; there was never a discovery sweeter.


	7. Tease 7

Title: Tease  
Author: Fenikkusu Ai  
Claim: Lucifer/John Constantine  
Table: General #10  
Prompt: #7 "Oh No…"  
Rating: M  
Summary: John just wanted a midnight snack. Warnings: Language. Mentions of sexual situations... Word Count: 1,320

* * *

"Oh, no…" The words welled up from John Constantine's throat as the blood oozed from his finger.

What the hell had prompted him to cut up an apple? In fact, what had prompted him to _buy_ apples in the first place? He never ate fruit. Staying healthy wasn't his prime concern, and it wouldn't do him much good at this point in his life anyway.

John ran over to the kitchen sink and turned on the faucet. But, instead of clear chlorinated water, there was just…nothing. Just air.

"Fuck," John hissed. There was obviously a water main break somewhere. Or maybe there was something wrong with the pipes…

Settling on wrapping a faded dish cloth around his injury, John turned around to see Chas smirking faintly from the doorway.

"What the hell's so funny?" John spit out.

"You have some serious bad luck, Constantine. You've had bad luck all week."

"Your point?" John snapped.

"My point is I think it might be more than normal bad luck. Maybe something supernatural!" he finished brightly. At John's dark look, Chas noticeably folded back up inside himself. "Um...bye then. I'll pick you up tomorrow."

John felt it. Just for a second. One pang of remorse for acting like such a dick to his most loyal friend before turning his attention back to his still bleeding injury. Screw it. The kid should know better than to act like such a smartass.

Though, Chas did have a point. Not that it wasn't something he suspected all along. This was luck that came straight out of hell.

"Motherfucker," Constantine hissed. "Where are you hiding?"

The kitchen remained as silent as a tomb.

"Asshole. Show yourself." John's voice was louder and stronger now.

Again, no answer.

He decided to try the polite approach. "If you want my attention, you have it."

The room was still unnaturally quiet. Right now, John imagined him giggling somewhere in hell like a schoolgirl.

"What's wrong? No balls?"

_Drip...Drip…_

John whirled around as the stray drops of water slid from the faucet and struck the metal sink. What did you know. _Now_, there was water. Apparently, he had finally hit a nerve. Wandering over to the dripping faucet warily, John reached out his hand and shut off the tap. He suspected that the "fun" was just beginning.

_Drip…Drip…Drip_

He guessed right.

Now, the sound came from behind him; drops of thick liquid sizzling though the plastic linoleum. Tar, this time.

It dawned on John not to turn around, but it was too late. _His_ eyes were there watching him at the sink. Sighing, knowing that the game was over, he turned around to face the ghastly vision in white. The Devil. In his kitchen.

_Only me. This shit only happens to me…_

Lu bared his perfectly white teeth as he grinned lewdly. "Balls, sonny? My, that was a low blow. You of all people should know just where my balls are."

The only words that came out of John's mouth were, "Damn it, Lu..." He would've said more, but his brain was getting foggy from lack of sleep and too much stress.

Lu grunted in reply and began walking across the room, apparently bored with the conversation for the moment. And a bored Lucifer was a dangerous Lucifer. Uselessly, Constantine's fingers sought the edge of the counter to steady himself. He never knew quite what he was going to do when Lu approached him like this: a fighting or a fucking.

John eyed the kitchen knife that was six feet away from him give or take, however he knew it would be useless against Lucifer. It might give him a nasty wound, although his flesh would regenerate again fairly quickly. He knew from experience.

John was genuinely relieved when Lucifer's fingers began seizing apple slices instead of him. One after another entered the Devil's mouth as he greedily gobbled them up. It was on John's lips to say, "That's mine, asshole," however, that would have resulted in a nasty burn. Or been the cause of premature death.

So…Lu dragged himself up here for a midnight snack? No. He wasn't buying it. It didn't make sense.

Finally, the fiend spoke. "Apples were always one of my favorites…not that that's surprising."

He smacked his lips enticingly while John pretended not to notice how the sound made him shiver in arousal. John hated being so damned easy, so enamored with the universe's most evil being.

Lucifer sent him a lascivious, knowing stare. "You _are_ happy to see me, aren't you?"

John Constantine glowered. "Cut the shit. Why are you here, Lu?"

Lu shrugged. "Things were getting a little bit too calm around here. You know I can't allow that." He stated this matter-of-factly. The Powers that Be that silently watched everything nodded in silent approval.

Leery and on edge, John watched the beast walk over to him. He held an apple slice in his hand. "Hungry?"

That tore it. "Get out of my kitchen."

"Just open up." Lucifer was beginning to pout.

"No."

"You're not nice, sonny, you know that. I'd be careful if I were you. I could make it easier for you in the future."

In the future. When he was in _hell_.

Something contracted in his chest, and John found himself ready to hit the demon in white. Lu was on _fire_ today. It was a rare moment where he was really getting under John's skin.

"Liar," John whispered softly. Hoarsely. He would need to smoke a half of pack cigarettes after this encounter.

"It's what I do," Lucifer whispered just as softly.

John was pressed against his own kitchen cabinets when the fiend lunged at him. His lips were like fire on his own mouth, but then, John was used to pain. The demon growled deep in his chest in desire, and the sound vibrated through his feeble human skin. Ever so lightly, Lu's fingers innocently traveled down his back and the disturbed fabric began to smoke and burn under his touch.

And, then, John was kissing back; hand gripping Lu's pure as snow jacket. He hoped he wrinkled it, the bastard. Allowing that forked tongue to explore his mouth so willingly was preferable than crying out in terror. Terror. And arousal.

Almost tenderly, Lu cradled the back of his head with one hand although John wasn't fooled by the gentle fingers. He knew how easily he could break his neck if he wished. He also knew the demon could hear his thoughts. A chuckle confirmed this as Lucifer's nails raked his John's scalp when he grabbed a fistful of hair.

"Not yet, sonny." He licked the lobe of his ear.

Constantine closed his eyes when his belt was roughly seized and stealthily slid off his body. He heard it hit the floor with a dull _tink_.

He couldn't help the whimper that escaped his lips. So. It was to be a fucking tonight.

Helplessly, he waited for the intruding pain. Ten seconds. Twenty. At least a minute.

Wait. Something was wrong.

John cracked open his eyelids and looked around. He was alone with Lu nowhere to be seen with his pants down and cock hard. A tease. That's all this was.

"Son of a bitch!" Constantine screeched as he upended the kitchen table; the closest thing he could take his rage out on. No one played him like that. No one cornered him like a puppy and made him feel that weak. Not anymore. Not since Ravenscar, anyway.

Ashamed and near destroyed, he picked up the lost belt and half-heartedly buckled it back around his waist. Lu was gone and would stay gone for a while. He'd made his point after all.

_I have all the power, and you have none._

Fuck this. He wasn't staying here tonight.

John walked past the puddle of still steaming tar to make a rare surprise visit to Chas at one in the morning.


	8. Reaction 8

Title: Reaction

Author: Fenikkusu Ai

Claim: Lucifer/John Constantine

Table: General #10

Prompt: #8 Pet

Rating: M

Summary: Lucifer knew that his grip was like iron when he grabs John's frail shoulder.

Word Count: 452

* * *

His exorcist needed a collar. A good old-fashioned leather collar. John was a wayward dog who needed discipline, and he was willing to do the job.

Sit? Heel? Beg? That would be elementary compared to what he would do when he was in his kennel.

John was a fascinating subject, and he wondered how long it would take for John to break. Not days knowing the exorcist—_his_ exorcist's-stubbornness. But weeks? Months? _Years_? Lucifer imagined how he would pant. How he would plead on his knees in a pool of his despair.

And, he would laugh because John had been put down there by actions and a bad attitude all of his own will. Truly, John was his own worst enemy. It was a pity he would never know it. It would be like unraveling a tightly wound knot, and Lucifer would undo John ever so slowly. Teasingly. Until his sanity was but a memory.

On the asphalt, he "accidentally" runs into John and isn't surprised when John assumes that he is in control. The magician attempted to push past him, and Lucifer wouldn't be shoved aside tonight.

"Stay, my pet," he growls. Lucifer knew that his grip was like iron when he grabs John's frail shoulder.

The poor boy was drunk again, and now he was going to lick his wounds at his apartment. Maybe Johnny should get a girlfriend. He had stopped seeing…what's-her-name weeks ago…Angela was it? But no, he wanted to protect her, and maybe he was smart to do this. Friends of the great John Constantine often ended up dead and sometimes even haunted his lair. John was a waste of life. A waste of time. A waste of space.

Lucifer saw through the heavy authority John presumed rested on his shoulders like he was carrying the very world on them with all the arrogance of a demon. Lucifer sometimes wondered if he could honestly fix himself before it was too late. If John's "miracle" was even possible, but ego was ego after all, and ego was his domain.

Lucifer gleefully took the opportunity to catch him off guard; grabbing onto his tie with force like a leash. "Sometimes, you're the only thing I think about," he confessed.

Lucifer relished the shock and obvious fear in his eyes. He smiled wide. So. He had finally gotten a reaction out of him. That didn't happen everyday. Lucifer concluded that John's defenses were down. How perfect.

"Asshole!" John bared his nicotine-stained teeth.

Lucifer smirked as he watched him go only to run into him another day, and one day would be the last day. John was such a tease in making him wait.

And good pets never outlived their masters.


	9. Familiar Territory 9

Title: Familiar Territory

Author: Fenikkusu Ai

Claim: Lucifer/John Constantine

Table: General #10

Prompt: #9 Toothache

Rating: M

Summary: No light would penetrate this filth.

Word Count: 617

* * *

"It's just a toothache, Chas."

"John, I think it's time you see a dentist."

Yeah. The last thing John wanted to do was sit in a chair for two or three fucking hours. He idly remembered that dentists had the highest suicide rate compared to any other profession. He figured that he should be in good company then.

"People die from toothaches, John. I remember a guy..."

John shot a Chas a glare. He wasn't in the mood for one of Chas' stories. Once he started, he never shut up.

"I know where the phone is." He nodded to a rotary phone that never went out of style. The hell with cell phones. He was still the old-fashioned sort for what it was worth.

Eventually, Chas stopped pestering him, and went John was left with the throbbing pain in his jaw.

Swearing, John located the bottle of aspirin and took a few before stretching out on the bed. Sleeping off the pain seemed like a good idea at first. Barely abed for a half hour, John could see he had received a visitor. An unwelcome visitor at that.

"Aw, my boy's sick," a voice that oozed fake sympathy profaned the room. "Can't have that."

John peeked over the duvet. "Get away from me. I'm not dying."

The fallen angel casually picked at the buttons on his coat. "I just came here to take your mind off the pain."

It was insulting how easily his insults bounce off of him. Nothing got past Lu's defenses.

"That's why they invented aspirin, asshole."

Lucifer approached the bed with a glint in his eyes.

John knew. He already knew the intention behind this visitation, and he didn't want to fight this time. He was just too damned tired. Too weak.

Lucifer bent one knee into the mattress before he proceeded to climb on.

"No."

It was as if John had never spoken.

"I hope you kept the home fires burning for me."

The devil's greedy fingers ripped into his clothes before they incinerated his skin. John's eyes rolled up at the ceiling. He was so not in the mood for this. Screw it. When had he gotten so passive? So pathetic...

"Not feisty today?" Lucifer seemed genuinely surprised.

"Fuck you."

"That's what I'm doing, John."

John shuddered beneath him. Not this. Anything but this. However, they both knew that they were on familiar territory.

"John, stop being such a tease. You know you like it. Besides, it takes your mind off your tooth."

Under Lucifer's thrusts, the psychic soon forgot about the pulsing pain rooted in his jaw and found himself suddenly immersed in something so dark that no light would penetrate it. Something so depraved that no medicine would treat it let alone heal it.

John maintained his rapidly crumbling facade. "What? No kiss?"

A ghost of a smile touched the devil's lips. "Sonny, I didn't know you cared."

Then, he was gone; leaving John to pick up the pieces of his already fragile psyche.

He hadn't fought again. He had had let it happen again. Well, his defenses had been down. He had been surprised. It was so easy to justify, but it was even harder to believe it. Every excuse he made afterwards sounded so...pitiful.

The emotions weighed down on his diseased chest. He gasped before he started a fit of coughing. Wheezing, he collapsed into himself. Closed his eyes.

When the shame eventually wore off, when some strength returned to his ailing body, he rolled over to call the nearest dentist. John would rather make an appointment with him than the devil.

After he took care of that, he was in dire need of a chest x-ray.


End file.
